


The White Stallion

by kueble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Centaurs, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29890662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: If you told Jaskier a year ago that he’d be traveling with a witcher - let alone the White Stallion - he wouldn’t have believed it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 184





	The White Stallion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for two different prompts on Tumblr, asking for centaur witchers or centaur!Geralt.

If you told Jaskier a year ago that he’d be traveling with a witcher - let alone the White Stallion - he wouldn’t have believed it. If you added the fact that he’s absolutely head over heels for him, Jaskier probably would have died laughing.

To be fair, it _is_ a bit ridiculous.

But Jaskier dares anyone to spend more than a month at the side of the witcher and not start pining for him. Despite his surly demeanor, Geralt is actually compassionate and righteous to a fault. Jaskier has seen him turn down contracts he didn’t agree with as well as refuse payments from some of the poorer villages he’s worked for. After their first week together, he’d given up on trying to drive Jaskier away, and there's been many nights he’s gone hungry to make sure Jaskier is fed. 

Personality aside, he’s also _unfairly_ gorgeous. Geralt would fight this to his last breath, but Jaskier has definitely spent more time than recommended just looking at the centaur. He’s normally shirtless, which is a whole new kind of torture. Having to look at those chiseled abs and strong arms all day long? No one could resist. Combined with his stunning gold eyes and the miles of silky silver hair just begging to be tugged on, Jaskier is in a perpetual state of horniness.

The non-human parts don’t even detract from it. His coat is a little darker than his hair with ruddy pink scars scattered throughout. He’s taller than Jaskier, bigger and wider all over, and it’s equally intimidating and mouth-watering. The thought that Geralt could easily overpower him makes his skin buzz and his thoughts race. He’s spent more than a few nights taking himself in hand to the image of being on his hands and knees with Geralt’s solid body caging him in. 

Both the best and worst part of being Geralt’s constant companion is the fact that centaurs simply do not wear pants. The philosophers back at Oxenfurt could go on for days about the whole _if a horse wore pants, how would he wear them_ nonsense, but Jaskier knows the truth: he wouldn’t. And it’s not like he goes out of his way to look at Geralt’s frankly massive cock, but it’s always there. Turn toward your companion to have a conversation? Giant prick. Try to compose the next great romantic ballad while walking down a dirt road in the forest? Huge cock. It’s unavoidable, and it turns Jaskier on to no end. 

The amount of time he’s spent thinking about the logistics of taking that gorgeous dick inside of him is way more than he’d like to admit. It’s gotten so bad that a few months ago he jumped at the chance to buy a set of well-made wooden plugs. The smallest one was easy to take, and he’s already worked himself up to the largest one, which looks just shy of Geralt’s girth. He doesn’t even bother complaining when he’s left behind on a hunt anymore. It’s become a secret routine; as soon as Geralt is gone, he’s reaching for his oil and the current plug. He’s spent hours working himself open to thoughts of how well he’d take Geralt.

Honestly, Jaskier never imagined he’d be fantasizing about being mounted like a mare, but here he is.

They’ve had exactly one conversation about the fact that Geralt is a centaur, which ended with Geralt’s grumbled explanation that it was the result of his extra mutagens. He clearly thinks himself a monster, more so than the other _normal_ witchers, and it breaks Jaskier’s heart to think about it.. Jaskier’s tried to argue about it, but Geralt won’t even discuss the matter anymore. He is what he is, and that’s just life.

“You’re worse than usual tonight,” Geralt grumbles from his side of the fire, effectively pulling Jaskier out of his inner musings.

“What?” he asks, blinking as his thoughts fall back into place.

“You’re normally a bit worked up, but tonight it’s like you’re a maiden going to her wedding bed. Did you see someone particularly enticing back in town? What’s gotten you so riled up? I can barely think through the scent of it,” Geralt explains, scrunching up his nose.

“You...you can _smell_ when I’m turned on?” Jaskier squeaks, because honestly that knowledge would have been nice to know ages ago.

“Witcher senses. I thought you knew? I can leave you alone for a bit if you need me to? Go for a run or something?” he asks, not quite meeting Jaskier’s eyes. Which is good, because the thought of Geralt running brings up images of his chest muscles bouncing while he runs, which he’s sure sends another spike of lust out of him. Or however the smell thing works.

“One, you’re the first witcher I’ve met, and you tend to be a pretty secretive lot. I didn’t know. Two, did it just get worse right then?” Jaskier asks, licking his lips as he studies Geralt. He looks a bit uncomfortable, but mostly curious. This wasn’t how he planned on offering up himself as a possible partner, but he’s a flexible man.

“Yes actuality. Why, did you think about her tits?” Geralt asks with a grimace.

“Yours actually,” Jaskier snorts out, hiding his smile behind his hands.

“I don’t have tits.”

“You do. They’re magnificent,” Jaskier counters, finally getting the nerve to stand up and slowly walk towards Geralt. He stops in front of where he’s curled up. They’re not quite eye level, but he’d only have to duck down a bit to kiss him. And so without thinking, he does.

He gets headbutted for his trouble, Geralt glaring at him as he staggers back and rubs his forehead.

“What was that for?” he asks, frowning.

“Don’t mock me by trying to kiss me,” Geralt spits out as he crosses his arms over his chest. His tail twitches, a clear sign that he’s agitated with him.

“I’m not mocking you, I’m hitting on you!” Jaskier exclaims, throwing up his hands at how stupid the man he’s fallen in love with is.

“Well get your kicks somewhere else,” Geralt grumbles, pursing his lips.

“Why do you think I’m so keyed up tonight?” Jaskier counters, because his friend is clearly an idiot. Apparently the ability to smell lust doesn’t mean you can _understand_ it.

“I don’t know. Figured you’re using that imagination of yours,” Geralt tells him bitterly.

“I’ve been staring at you, watching the shadows from the fire dance across your bare chest, and _longing_ for you, you idiot,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be obtuse. I’m even more of a monster than the rest of the witchers. Nobody wants this,” he grunts out, waving a hand at his legs and tail.

“You’re as stupid as you are gorgeous,” Jaskier says, sighing as he tentatively moves closer.

“Do you normally insult your bed-partners this much?” Geralt asks with a huff, but he looks almost hopeful and it makes Jaskier want to hold onto him and never let go.

“Only when they’re too thick to see how ridiculously beautiful they are. But beyond that, you’re a good man, Geralt. I’ve gotten to know you this past year, and you’re one of the few decent people left in the world. I want you _because_ you’re you, not in spite of it,” Jaskier says softly, hoping every ounce of pent up longing comes through in his voice. Geralt tilts his head at him and frowns again.

“You’re telling the truth,” Geralt whispers, barely more than a breath.

“Of course.”

“Kiss me again,” Geralt says, his voice unsteady. 

Jaskier nods and moves closer, slowly sinking to his knees. Geralt’s the taller one now, and he bends down to press their lips together. It starts chaste, just a gentle press of mouths, but then it’s like a dam bursts and Jaskier can’t hold himself back any longer. He licks into Geralt’s mouth, tracing his teeth, mapping him as their tongues slide together. Geralt groans into the kiss, his hands coming up to grip Jaskier’s shoulders.

Jaskier pulls back just slightly, brushing his nose against Geralt’s before kissing a path down his jawline. His slight stubble feels good against Jaskier’s lips, and he slows down, enjoying the drag of it. He nips at Geralt’s pulse point before darting his tongue out to sooth it. Geralt shivers and arches into the touch, making Jaskier smirk into his skin. He sits back on his heels and catch’s Geralt’s gaze, making sure he can see how much he wants this, how desirable he is.

“I want you to fuck me,” Jaskier whispers, and Geralt lets out a pained groan before shaking his head.

“Can’t. Too much to work up to. But _fuck_ I want that too,” he says, cupping Jaskier’s face and pulling him into another lazy kiss.

“I’ve uh,” Jaskier breathes out, cheeks on fire as he looks to the side, “I’ve been preparing for it. For you. We should be ok.”

“Preparing?” Geralt asks, his voice barely audible. Jaskier realizes he’s going to need a better explanation if they’re going to actually do this, so he jumps up and rifles through his pack, grabbing the largest plug from where he has it hidden inside an old shirt. He grabs a vial of oil, too, because he’s nothing if not optimistic.

“There’s a few different ones, but this is the biggest. I...I’ve worked my way up,” Jaskier explains as he holds up the wooden plug. Geralt’s eyes darken and he swallows thickly.

“Thinking of me?”

“Thinking of you and hoping for this,” Jaskier admits, waving a hand between them. Before he can continue, Geralt fists his hands in his shirt and drags him into a rough kiss. He melts against the witcher and lets him explore, arching into him as their mouths slant together. Geralt plays with the hem of his shirt before shoving it up, fingers searching for more skin. Jaskier moans into his mouth, whimpering as Geralt rakes his nails over his nipples and then runs them through the trail of hair disappearing inside his trousers. 

He needs to be naked like yesterday, so he breaks the kiss and gently sets down the plug and oil before tugging his shirt over his head. He starts with the laces of his pants, but Geralt shoves his hands out of the way and undoes them himself. His thighs shake as he stands there, finally getting Geralt’s hands on him after months of longing for them. Geralt sucks on the skin where his neck and shoulder meet, grazing him with his teeth as he works his pants down his legs.

And then he’s wrapping his fingers around him, and Jaskier keens, ducking his head down to kiss him again. Geralt pumps him slowly, teasing the head of his cock and gathering pre-come to ease the slide. He bucks into his fist, mewling as his legs start to give out. He steadies his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and steps out of his boots before kicking his pants off to the side.

Geralt shifts around and tugs Jaskier into his lap, settling him on his strong thighs. “Oil,” he murmurs against Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier twists around to grab it off the ground. Geralt has one hand around his waist, keeping him in his lap, so he opens the vial himself and coats Geralt’s fingers with it. He watches the slick oil dribble down his long fingers in the light of the fire and then spreads his legs.

The first touch against his hole is hesitant, but he whines brokenly and Geralt seems to gain confidence. He circles his hole, teasing before slowly pressing in up to the first knuckle. Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck and tucks his face against his collar bone.

He’s shivering by the time they’re up to two fingers, Geralt expertly working him open. He holds up his hand and Jaskier adds more oil to it, squirming as Geralt slowly slides his fingers back inside of him. He tilts his head up and catches Geralt in a sloppy kiss, more tongues and spit than anything. He sighs into the kiss as Geralt works another finger in, slowly opening him up.

“I’m good,” Jaskier sighs as he breaks the kiss. He knows it will still be a stretch, but _fuck_ he’s ready for it; needs it more than anything he’s ever wanted before.

“I’ve only ever fucked other witchers. Are you sure you’re ready for me?” Geralt asks softly, and Jaskier nods frantically, wiggling on his fingers.

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow, but _gods_ do I need you now,” Jaskier mumbles against his mouth. Geralt seems to accept it and pulls his fingers free before sliding Jaskier out of his lap.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, and Jaskier races to comply. Geralt moves into position, his large body completely surrounding him, and Jaskier whines deep in his chest. It’s everything he’d imagined and more. He didn’t know how impossibly warm Geralt would be, heat coming at him from every angle.

“Please,” he begs, letting his head fall down to his chest as he raises his hips and prepares to be mounted. He can hear Geralt slicking himself up and has to close his eyes, completely overwhelmed by the thought of it. Next time he’s going to get his hands and his mouth on him, show him how much Jaskier adores him, but they’re both too desperate for that right now.

“You’ll have to guide me in,” Geralt tells him, and Jaskier forces his eyes open again. Geralt moves closer, his front legs by Jaskier’s shoulders and hands on the ground in front of them both. 

The tip of his cock brushes against Jaskier’s ass, and he shudders, whole body lighting up at the feel of it. He leans on one hand and reaches behind himself to wrap his fingers around it. Geralt is massive, and Jaskier has a moment of worry that it won’t work, but then he lines up and presses back as Geralt pushes forward and the head slowly slides inside of him.

He cries out, the sound echoing in the clearing around them. Geralt starts to pull back, but he pushes back and rushes out, “I’m good! So good! Just a lot.”

“You’re so tight,” Geralt growls from above him, and Jaskier moans as he’s slowly breached.

It’s just shy of too much, and Jaskier focuses on breathing as Geralt fills him. There’s no way his entire cock will fit, but it’s still the most full Jaskier has ever felt. Geralt stills, letting him adjust. He feels a hand on his shoulder, soothing him as he gets used to the stretch.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier says after a long moment, and Geralt pulls most of the way out before thrusting back in. Jaskier moans and drops to his forearms, fingers digging into the dirt beneath them. It’s good - so fucking good - and he’s drunk on it, head floating at the feeling of being so full.

They move together, Geralt slowly stretching him open with each thrust. He’s glad for the practice with the wooden plug, but it’s nothing like this. Geralt is a solid heat in his ass, but flexible in a way the plug wasn’t. He shoves deeper as he fucks him, and Jaskier rocks into it, chasing the feeling as he pulls back.

There’s no way he’s going to last, not when he’s wanted this for so long, not when Geralt is stretching him open so completely. Geralt lets out an endless stream of moans above him, and Jaskier knows he’s close too. His thighs are shaking as he holds himself up, body rocking as Geralt slams into him. 

He pushes up on one hand and works the other under him, sliding it down his body. Before he can reach his swollen prick, he brushes against the soft skin of his stomach and shudders, realizing he’s so full of Geralt’s cock that he’s bulging. He palms his stomach, pressing into it and feeling Geralt move _inside of him_.

“Fuck,” he whines, trembling as he slides his hand lower and finally wraps his long fingers around his aching cock. He doesn’t have a good angle, can’t really pump himself, but he doesn’t need to. Geralt thrusts into him, forcing him to fuck his own fist as they move together.

Geralt slams into him hard, and that’s all it takes, his muscles tensing as he spills onto the ground beneath him. His arms give out, the force of his orgasm almost too much to handle. It’s never felt like this, this desperate, this overpowering, and he howls as he comes. 

Geralt keeps fucking him, plowing into him one deep thrust after another. Jaskier concentrates on holding his ass up, on giving him that target to thrust into. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, and he hisses before coming inside Jaskier. It’s so much, hot burst after burst filling him so much he thinks he’ll never be empty again. He sobs into his forearm and takes it, reveling in the feeling of come dripping down his thighs as Geralt pumps him full of it.

He loses time after that, and the next thing he senses is Geralt gathering him into his arms and wiping him down with a wet cloth. He’s talking, and it takes Jaskier a bit before he can focus on it. “With me now?” Geralt asks softly, smiling down at him.

“That was intense,” Jaskier says, laughing as he tries to sit up and just flounders in Geralt’s lap. He realizes they’re on his bedroll now, and there’s a blanket next to him. 

“I didn’t break you, did I?” Geralt teases, but he keeps touching Jaskier, running his hands over his chest, down his thighs, grounding him. He shakes his head and Geralt shifts a bit, setting Jaskier down on the ground and curling up around him.

“Walking tomorrow is going to be hell, but I’ll survive,” Jaskier says, giggling as he snuggles up against Geralt’s side.

“We can rest for the day. It’s my fault you’re worn out,” Geralt tells him with a soft chuckle. 

“So you do care,” Jaskier says softly, lighting up when Geralt offers him a small smile. “You know, next time I want to get my mouth on you.”

“Next time?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier can hear the hope in his voice. Glad to know he’s not the only one invested now.

“Of course,” Jaskier confirms, and he can feel it when Geralt hums deep in his chest. The witcher pulls the blanket over him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him closer. Jaskier falls asleep to the feeling of fingers in his hair, feeling more content than he ever has before.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com/).


End file.
